Madeline's Garden
by Vashti
Summary: To complete a mission, Madeline needs to borrow one of Section Four's tools. The longer she has it, however, the less she wants to give it back.
1. Loaner

**Title:** Loaner  
 **Series:** Madeline's Garden  
 **Author:** Vashti  
 **Fandom:** La Femme Nikita (1997)  & BtVS  
 **Character(s):** Madeline, Oz  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Summary:** Madeline needs to use one of Section Four's tools for a small, two-week mission.  
 **Length:** ~890 words  
 **Disclaimer:** Only the words are mine, and that's probably up for philosophical debate.  
 **Notes:** Originally written for the Twisted Shorts 2013 August Ficathon on livejournal.

* * *

Like all loans from Section Four, he was small and neat and wrapped up nicely in white. He only deviated from protocol a little by coming in a cage coated with a silver alloy. Madeline had been instructed very carefully that, should Section One need to keep him for longer than the already agreed-upon eighteen days, he was to be returned to the cage and locked in an interrogation room every night for three nights before sundown and not let out until well after sunrise the next day. Though she didn't anticipate needing even half the time agreed upon, Madeline double-checked with her assistants that they knew the care instructions by heart, had them on their panels as backup, and would followed them precisely. Usually it went unspoken that any deviation from instructions would result in their termination. Madeline took no chances: "He _will_ cancel you. It _will not_ be pleasant." She'd waited a beat. "Dismissed."

They'd nodded quite obediently, careful not to look at the creature patiently and quietly sitting in his cage.

Satisfied, she sent them out of the White Room, waited ten seconds after the door had clicked shut before she began to circle her loan. Yes, typical Section Four fodder: small, neat, pale from lack of direct sunlight but otherwise healthy in appearance. He was more finely formed than she would have expected a creature like him to be, but that perception, she realized, probably had more to do with how carefully he held himself within his cage—exposed skin kept far away from the silver-coated bars—than his actual build.

From what she understood werewolves were actually quite sturdy creatures.

"I'm going to release you now. You will wait until I have stepped away from the door to emerge. Understood?"

He nodded.

"I require a verbal response at all times."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are my instructions understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Upon seeing him upright, Madeline nodded to herself. While still small for a man, he was not as small as he had appeared tucked into his cage. The light tenor of his voice fit his frame. Other men would not find it strange, nor would the wonder why they either either bristled or cowered in his presence. Women, she suspected, would think him adorable. A haircut would help to take a few more years from his appearance. Tanning lamps would ease the translucence of his skin, under which she could see the blue tracery of his veins. His hands were a splotchy bright red where he'd been forced to touch the silver alloy bars of his cage. He was long-fingered.

"How old are you?" she asked, circling him again.

"I'll be 23."

"And how long have you been with Section Four?"

"I was born there."

All answers Madeline either knew or suspected. She was more concerned with how he answered than the information itself.

"Have you ever been outside?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Often?"

"No, ma'am."

"And what did you think of the experience."

He shrugged.

Behind him at that moment, Madeline swiveled on her heel and backhanded him. His cheek was softer than one of her operatives, and he even stumbled a bit on his feet, but she was unconcerned about damage. With is resilience and recovery time, surely she was more hurt than he. "As I said, I require a verbal response to all questions."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What did you think of your time outside?"

"It was..." In his silence and stillness, she sensed his struggled for words. "It was unremarkable."

"Elaborate. If you can."

"Everything that I want or need is in Section. "

"Have you found nothing of interest?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "Music. Live music," he clarified.

"Kind?"

He shrugged. "I'm not particular."

"What about freedom. Isn't that enticing?" Madeline asked, eyebrows raised even as she adjusted the mental profile she had for him.

"They're not very free if they need us."

Madeline's lips curled up into a half-smile. "The illusion can be enticing."

"I'd rather have the truth."

"Hmm." Madeline paused and began walking the other way. "What do you know of the parameters of your loan?"

"You are to return me to Section Four before the next full moon or take precautions."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Unsurprised, Madeline gave him a rough outline off the mission spec. She and Paul hadn't quite nailed down the particulars but she wasn't worried. This was a very small mission, just not one her operatives were equipped to handle. "Do you think you'll be able to manage it? If not, I can send you back to Section Four without consequence."

"I'll be fine."

"You're confident. Good. Well, then, in about two weeks you'll be back behind your monitors and lab tables in Section Four. Unless, of course, you prefer the life of a Section One operative and choose to stay. We can never have too many computer geniuses."

His nostrils flared, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Madeline nodded, pleased. Still... "Whatever it is you'd like to say, I'd like to hear it."

He seemed to weigh the veracity of her words. "I don't want to belong to another Section, ma'am."

"May I ask why?"

"As I said, everything I need is at Four and nothing outside of Four is really interesting. Four is home."

"Your name is Oz, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled. "I wonder how much longer you'll be able to live up to that name." On her last cycle around him, she broke off and went for the door. This time he did track her with his eyes. Pausing, she said, "Someone from Wardrobe will come and get you changed, then you'll meet your teammates and we can discuss the Sunnydale mission."

"Yes, ma'am."

Fin[ite]

* * *

 **AN2:** When I first posted this series it was called The Sunnydale Mission. I could never make it stick in my head, however.


	2. To Have

**Title:** To Have  
 **Character(s):** Madeline, Oz, Operations/Paul  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Summary:** Madeline briefs Oz and the Section One operatives on their mission.  
 **Length:** ~1775 words  
 **Notes:** Originally written for the 2013 Twisted Shorts August Ficathon.

* * *

The tanning lamps had helped somewhat. He was still pale, but Madeline could no longer trace large portions of his circulatory system by sight alone, nor had he glowed when backlit in the doorway to the briefing room. Someone in Wardrobe had also chosen to darken and shorten his hair. It served to make the pallor look more natural. She approved. A few more overly-healthy meals would help to fill him out, but Madeline didn't think he'd be in the field long enough for it to matter.

Standing before Madeline as he patiently endured her visual inspection, he looked out of place in his loose-fitting jeans and checkered button-down shirt opened to reveal the black tee underneath.

"This is Oz from Four. As you'll see on your panels, he will be our primary operative in the field," she said by way of introduction to the Section One operatives seated around the briefing table. Turning to him, she indicated that he should join them. "Please."

"Yes, ma'am." In the midst of his teammates, all dressed for their roles, he hardly stood out at all.

Madeline smiled. "Let's begin, shall we." She called up the primary screen. "As you all know by now, the Sunnydale mission is primarily a small fact-gathering exercise, expected to last no more than two weeks. It is also a joint effort between Section One and Section Four – hence our 'borrowing' of Oz."

Half of the oversized viewscreen beside her was filled with a shifting schematic of the town, Sunnydale, that cycled between its topography, geology, population density, building zones and infrastructure. The other half showed statistics from various government agencies, including police reports and the most recent national census. The information was simultaneously reflected on their panels. Madeline gave them time to review it.

"These numbers are impossible," someone muttered.

Nodding, Madeline said, "Yes, Dale, precisely. Furthermore, there has been no formal inquiry by any recognized government agency into murder, migration and disappearance rates, although all their population numbers are systemically higher than national averages. In some categories they actually skew the national averages."

Someone swore under their breath. Madeline ignored it. "The Sunnydale effect, as we'll be calling it for now, extends some ways outside of the town although it doesn't seem to affect its nearest big-city neighbor, LA.

"We have some leads regarding causes for these numbers and they all point to the supernatural." Madeline waited for the chuffs, the blank stares, the incredulity and confusion to pass before she said, "Which is why we are working with Section Four for this mission. Oz, tell your teammates what you are."

He looked up, blinking and blank for a moment-surprised by the request or still immersed in the information on his panel-before answering. "I'm a werewolf."

Silence filled the small meeting room.

"How long have you been a werewolf?"

He shrugged. "All of my life, as far as I know."

Eyebrows quirking, Madeline crossed her arms over her chest. "And are you the only werewolf Section Four has in residence?"

"No, ma'am. Not at all." Oz's lips curled as if thinking of someone in particular.

"Looks like you'll be happy to have a vacation from someone."

"A female," he said, answering the implied question obliquely.

Madeline nodded.

The disbelief in the room was palpable. No one wanted to look at Oz, sitting as far from Madeline as it was possible to get at the oblong table, and yet their shoulders were subtly angling that way.

"Can you prove to us that you have another nature?"

He frowned. "Probably not without hurting a lot of people. It's a small room. If there's some silver in the room I could try to touch it, but the smell might make someone nauseous."

"I'm sure we'll figure out something. Moving right along..." Immediately all eyes returned to either the screen ahead or the panels on the table, tension easing as they did.

"Over the past year, the numbers for murders and disappearances have dropped significantly. At the center of this decline seems to be a high school student named Buffy Ann Summers." The town schematic sank away into the corner of the screen to be replaced by the picture of a teen-aged blonde girl.

"Two years ago she was involved in an incident at her school in LA County, including burning down the gymnasium during a dance. Since then she has had a less-than-model record as a student and her name has been flagged by several agencies within the town. However, as I stated, Sunnydale's statistics have never been better. Section Four has its theories as does Section One. We need more intel. You're going to gather it for us.

"Oz will take point within the supernatural community, which seems to be well-established in the area. The rest of you will pose as members of the town, primarily as high school students. With its high migration rate, five new faces will hardly make a ripple, assuming you're noticed at all. The same will be true of your subsequent disappearances. Oz will be in the band."

"There are an abnormal number of cemeteries," someone said.

Nodding, Madeline added, "And sewer access pipes, as well as other oddly occurring unnatural structures in and surrounding the town. For example…" The picture of Ms. Summers minimized and the town map maximized. "…considering it's size, wealth, population and overall history, there is an abnormally large warehouse district. These are all mysteries I fully expect you to explore."

An operative raised his hand to get Madeline's attention. "And that's all?"

"For now. If either of the theories concerning Ms. Summers are accurate, Section will want to recruit her, so keep your ears open. Reports are expected twice daily. Solitary travel is restricted to daylight hours. No operative, including Oz, is allowed to travel alone at night. Is that understood?"

There was a soft chorus of Yeses and Yes, ma'ams.

Another hand was raised. At Madeline's nod the operative said, "Are we reporting to Oz?"

"You'll send your reports directly to me. If there is an issue involving the supernatural, no matter how insignificant it might seem to you, take it to Oz immediately. Then we'll go from there.

"Are there any other questions?" She let the silence reign for a long, long moment. "You will be leaving tonight for Sunnydale at 1900. We will convene in Bay 6 at 1830. You're dismissed."

There was a general rustle of moving chairs and shifting clothing, but nothing was said out loud.

"Except you, Oz. Please remain behind."

She couldn't hear him, but she thought she saw him say "Yes, ma'am." She might miss him when he was sent him back. Perhaps, like the Slayer, they could recruit Oz as well.

i _"You know it seems a little ironic that the agency dealing in psionics, werewolves and mutants refuses to believe in a woman who's supposed to police them?"/i_ Operations had said in response to Section Four's vehement denial of their theory of Ms. Summers effect on the town.

i _"Perhaps it's not the story of the Slayer they refuse to believe, but the person telling it,"/i_ Madeline had said, pragmatically. Operations, Paul, had grunted. i _"If they want better funding then they'll have to produce better results,"/i_ he'd said mostly to himself. _i"Just make sure this Oz is on our side. You're sure that he's the right one for this mission?"_

 _"Positive."_ /i

With the meeting over, Madeline felt freer to give the temporary operative a closer inspection-and subsequently lay her own claim on him. When he was close enough, she grasped his chin with her fingers. Ignoring the instant tension, she turned him this way and that before running her hands down his arms in a cursory manner. She plucked at his clothes. She made him turn for her. She ran a hand through his darkened hair.

Around them, operatives ignored them as they walked in and out of the briefing room. If he was embarrassed or annoyed, he didn't let on. Except for the initial moment of tension, Oz allowed her to handle him like a particularly large toy. His breathing remained calm and even, and his pupils never dilated.

"By now I'm sure you've reviewed your profile for this mission?" she said.

He nodded. "I'm going to be a musician. A bassist for a band."

"You don't sound very pleased."

"Should I be?"

"Do you know how to be?"

Oz opened his mouth to reply, then closed it without saying a word. He recoiled slightly, probably expecting retaliation. She expected all responses to be verbal after all.

Madeline slapped his lower cheek to reinforce her mandate, but with only enough force to make his head move and only because he was being so docile. Per her research, consistency was key in establishing and maintaining dominance. The same was true for werewolves. If he were one of her operatives and not one of Four's wolves she would have let it go. But she wanted him to be hers.

Hmm.

"The bassist for a local band has taken ill. You'll fill in for him and use the band's scheduled performances and odd hours to your advantage."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you feel confident that you can do this?"

He thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Mostly. It will be the most interaction I've had with the outside ever. On my own."

Madeline smiled. "I think you'll be fine the way you are. Had I thought otherwise I would have sent you back."

"Thank you?"

Madeline's smile broadened. She cupped his face, scratching gently beneath his jaw, and felt him relax further. She drew her hands away and he took an involuntary step towards her. "You've been given temporary quarters?"

He shook himself, but did not step away. "Yes, ma'am."

"Return to them and study the instrument that you will find there. It should be as familiar to you as your computers back home."

He dipped his head. "Yes, ma'am."

"Still nervous?"

"A little."

She patted his shoulder, stopping herself from putting a proprietary hand on his neck. "Dismissed."

Madeline sat down at the briefing table. Her page appeared from the corner where he had been waiting for her. "Tell Havel to push back my schedule by an hour and a half."

The page murmured a soft 'Yes' before scurrying off to complete his task. Leaning back, Madeline contemplated the panel at her fingertips and the way her hands itched to thread themselves through gel-stiffened red hair. She knew this feeling. It was the beginning of obsession. She wanted the little Section Four 'operative', but not the way she sometimes wanted Paul, or the way she craved command.

No, she wanted Oz the way she'd wanted her sister's doll so many years ago. But why?

Fin[ite]


	3. Can't Do It Alone

**Title** : Can't Do It Alone  
 **Character(s)** : Oz, Devon, OCs, Madeline  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **Summary** : One of the other operatives brings Oz something he's been secetly needing for weeks now.  
 **Length** : ~660 words  
 **Notes** : Written for the Twisted Shorts August 2014 Ficathon.

* * *

When Chisholm, pretending to be an enthusiastic groupie, appeared at the lunch table Oz and the other Dingoes had appropriated and asked him, Oz, to listen to the song he wrote, Oz didn't think much about it. They'd been in Sunnydale for three weeks, and since most of them are pretending to be students at different levels of the high school social strata, they've all become creative with getting their reports on the supernatural out to Oz. He'd been accosted by Dale-as-bully. Class clown Park had tossed a paper airplane at his head, prompting his "sister" (and the only woman on the team), Weller, to write him a note in apology. Chisholm had taken on the role of groupie, and so it wasn't unusual to get reports in the guise of signing autographs. Or as a recording. Devon thought Oz was being too nice to the glee club nerd, but Oz just shrugged it off. _"Weren't the Beastie Boys nerds?"_

"Man, don't even..."

Oz looked up at Chisholm...Steven. "Hey, thanks Steve. I promise I'll try it out later."

Steven...Chisholm...rocked on the balls of his feet, excitement turning his eyes bright. "Please, if you could listen to this now. I worked really had on it all night and-"

Interpreting the fannish plea into "I ran into trouble last night and you need to know what it was _now_ ," Oz took the discman from the op and pulled on the headphones.

 _"Oz..."_

He nearly crumpled, giddy and relieved in a way even he wasn't expected. Devon and the guys had tuned out the moment they'd spotted Chisholm...Steven...(he could be clingy), but Oz glanced at them anyway to make sure.

"Madeline?" he breathed.

He could hear the amusement in her simple, _"Yes."_

Oz glanced up at Chisholm, the dark eyes serious in his equally dark face. Oz nodded. "This is good. Really good."

Chisholm nodded. "Thanks. Wasn't sure you'd be into it."

"No it's... I'm totally into it. I'll, uh, listen for a while and let you know what I think?"

Chisholm...Steven...rocked on the balls of his feet again, back in character. "That would be so cool, man."

Oz nodded once. "Cool."

With a goofy wave, Steven...Chisholm...was off. Devon decided it was good time to remember that Oz existed. "Yo, man, it's like feedin' strays. They don't learn to fend for themselves, they make a mess and they have kittens."

Oz blinked at the young man, genuinely confused. "What?" In his ear he thought he heard Madeline chuckle.

"I'm just sayin' if you're gonna keep signing his t-shirts and listening to his demos, you're never gonna get rid of him."

Brow raised, Oz said, "He's a fan."

"Yeah. A _guy_ fan. The Dingoes have standards to maintain, Oz my man. And those standards usually come with a nice rack."

Snorting, Oz turned away from the young man. "I promised Steven I'd take a listen so I am. It's really not that bad."

Devon reached for the headphones. When Oz ducked away, probably more sharply than he should have, Devon pulled a face. "What. It's not like I'm gonna, like, purposefully scratch up the CD or something."

"Yeah, but you'll dig into Steve. And I kinda like the song. Even if it is eleven minutes long."

"Dude, eleven?!"

But Oz was already out of his seat, walking away from most of the lunch crowd. "Madeline?" he said again, only a little more loudly than before.

 _"I'm here, Oz. I'm here."_

After three weeks of what would have been punishment for serious infractions at home with his pack in Section Four, Madeline's voice was as welcome as a pile full of warm pack-members. Most humans weren't as tactile as werewolves, and Oz had been feeling the lack keenly. He had, in fact, been about to request that he be relieved; he wasn't strong enough to complete the Sunnydale mission if it meant mostly going it alone.

 _"And I'll be here until you and the team come back home."_

Now he didn't have to.

[Fin]ite


	4. Recommended Course of Action

**Title** : Recommended Course of Action  
 **Character(s)** : Oz, Madeline  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **Summary** : Oz needs Madeline's help  
 **Length** : ~530 words  
 **Author's Notes** : Written for the August 2016 Twisted Shorts Ficathon.

* * *

"Madeline?"

"Yes, Oz. I'm here. What do you need?"

"I need to come..." He'd almost said 'home', where home meant 'Madeline.' "...come in. I need to come in."

He was in the back of his van, the only place safe enough to make this confession. If it had merely been a debriefing, he could have gone to one of the other operatives. And if someone (namely his new "bro" Devon McLeash) asked him about it later, it would have been easy to come up with a plausible reason. But while all his human teammates knew he was a werewolf, regardless of whether they believed it to be true, the change was still too deeply private to reveal to strangers.

"Hmm, you have stayed beyond your recommended time. And there still isn't anything definitive in this 'Vampire Slayer'?"

Oz shifted uneasily. His teammates were somewhere between his equals and lower than him in rank. For the time being, Madeline was [home] his alpha. It went against every instinct to lie to her.

And like any true alpha, she could apparently sense when a subordinate wolf was trying wiggle out of the truth. "Oz?"

There was a command in her voice, and he responded to it almost without thought. "She does exist. Every corner of the supernatural community is talking about her."

"And when we're you going to share this with me, Oz?"

Sitting alone in his van, with no one to see him and only the sound of Madeline's voice to indict him, Oz still find himself ducking his head and tucking in his shoulders. He felt like an adolescent again. "I was waiting to find out who she was."

"Why don't we yet know who she is?"

Although Madeline's tone hadn't changed, Oz felt more confident about this question. "No one has survived an encounter with the Slayer."

"Hmm. But they're all convinced it's the Slayer that's doing this? Cutting through the ranks of supernatural evil?"

"Yes, ma'am."

There was an extended silence on the other end of the line, but it had the feeling of being thoughtful. Oz settled in to wait.

"Who do you think she is?" Madeline asked somewhat unexpectedly. "You're a very intelligent young man. You must have some ideas?"

Warmth pulsed through Oz's chest at the minor praise. "There is a group of four at school. They always seem to be at the heart of supernatural trouble. Two of the four are girls."

"That's a start. You'll have to infiltrate the group."

"Yes, ma'am."

"As such, you can't be allowed to come in." Before Oz could pull his chin from his chest to protest, Madeline said, "I'll make sure arrangements are made. When is the first night of your change?"

"Two days."

"Good. I'll have everything ready for you by then. Remember what I said about infiltrating this group that you believe harbors the Slayer. Now is not the time to disappear."

"Yes, ma'am. I won't."

"Good, Oz. If I haven't told you before, you're doing an admirable job with this assignment. I'm proud of you."

Chest pulsing with warmth again, Oz nodded. "Thank you, ma'am."

"And do call me 'Madeline'."

"Yes, ma—Madeline."

"Good. See you in two days, Oz."

Fin[ite]


	5. Distractions

**Title** : Distractions  
 **Character(s)** : Oz, Madeline  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **Summary** : Madeline helps out.  
 **Length** : ~670 words  
 **Author's Notes** : Written for the August 2016 Twisted Shorts Ficathon.

* * *

Turning to Mitsuko, the page Madeline had brought with her to Sunnydale, she handed the young woman her mobile phone as they slid through streets of Sunnydale in the back of a black car. Older than most, it was almost time to determine what to do with Mitsuko. Madeline had always been impressed with the young woman's organization and analytical skills. She was thinking of recommending that Mitsuko be transferred to the Center at her next evaluation. The Center could always use skilled analysts, and Madeline could always use a loyal contact in the Center.

But that was an issue for another time.

"Mitsuko, send a text to Oz with the coordinates for tonight."

The young woman didn't respond at first, then, "It's done, Madeline."

"Good. Let me know when he responds."

"Yes, Madeline," Mitsuko said, eyes already glued to her panel. Suddenly, she looked up. "Madeline?"

"What is it Mitsuko?"

"The tranquilizer gun you requested is on the floor in front of us. You'll want to check it again for yourself, but I did examine it before we left the Section."

"Good. Thank you, Mitsuko." Yes, the Center would be a very good place for her.

"Madeline."

She could hear the relief and confusion coloring Oz's voice as she entered the cave she'd had retrofitted for his special use.

"What are you doing here?" he said as he rushed to help her down the natural stone steps that led into the cave proper.

Madeline smiled as she retrieved her hand. "Didn't I say that I would make the arrangements?"

"Yeah, but…I wasn't expecting you to come down personally."

Madeline's smile grew wider as she set down the case in her hand. "This mission is very personal to me. I take every aspect seriously." Turning away from the young werewolf, she took her first look around. "You were here before me. What do you think of the accommodations?"

Oz shook himself a little. "It's, um… It's good."

"I don't think I've ever seen you completely unsure of yourself, Oz."

The young werewolf colored, and Madeline felt her smile renewed. She extended her hand for Oz to take. "Walk me through the modifications my team has put into place. Show me what improvements we need to make."

His brows drew close as he approached her. "You think the Sunnydale Mission will take more than a month."

"I hope not, but I don't believe in leaving things to chance, either. Not when I can help it." In heels, Madeline was tall enough to comfortably rest her hand on Oz's shoulder, and then his neck. She lightly scratched his nape and felt him relax under her hand.

She'd seen pictures of Section Four's werewolves, but keeping still as she watched Oz change still took all of her training and all of her self-control. Holding the tranq gun helped her focus.

Madeline only lowered the gun once it was over and Oz was…no longer himself. She watched him impassively as he recovered from the change. Per her agreement with Four, this was supposed to be happening in a specially constructed, silver-alloy covered cage back in Section One. She had wondered a little about how Four kept control of their wolves in-house. Wardrobe hadn't reported any unusual scaring on Oz's body when they'd had him, but it was very possible, if not likely, that he had learned as a child to avoid the silver-alloy bars and any scars had long since healed.

Oz began to stir. Madeline raised the tranq gun then stopped. She stepped forward instead. "Oz? Do you know who I am?"

He sniffed the air…sniffed at the bars and snarled. One of Madeline's eyes twitched.

"Oz!" she snapped.

His head came up and he snarled again.

Madeline strode forward, reached between the bars and hit him soundly across the face with the gun.

He whimpered and fell back.

"Oz."

Whimpering still, he crawled towards her from the other side of the cage, head and tail lowered. Madeline looked down on him and smiled. "Good boy."

Fin[ite]


	6. Madeline's Garden

**Title:** Madeline's Garden  
 **Character(s):** Oz, Madeline Sands  
 **Rating:** PG/FR-13  
 **Summary:** Madeline makes her case to Oz.  
 **Length:** ~1,570 words  
 **Notes:** originally written for the 2016 TwistedShorts FAD, and posted as an independent story. This is also currently the last story in this series.

"What are you doing?" Oz mumbled.

Madeline's eyebrows rose. "Are you challenging me?"

Oz chuckled softly as he curled himself even more closely around her lower body. "Never," he said on a sigh as he pressed his nose into the juncture between her waist and thigh. The wool of her suit held her scent in suspension: expensive perfume, gun oil, confidence and protection.

Madeline's steady motions in his hair had him sleeping again in moments.

* * *

Oz hadn't felt so good after a change since Veruca had decided that she wanted him to mate. She persisted despite his regular and unchanging refusal, determined to wear him down. It had been more than five years.

The general wisdom in the pack was that whichever of them could rise in rank would "win" against the other. Despite their very different temperaments, however, they were equally stubborn and couldn't seem to rise in dominance without the other nipping at their heel – or being snapped back into place by an older pack-member. Oz was sure that Veruca would eventually pull the wrong tail and take care of the problem for him. He wasn't the only thing she had her sights on, after all. Oz could be, had been, patient. There was no one in the pack he wanted. He could, he would, outwait her.

But maybe he didn't have to. It had never occurred to him that he might leave. Where would he have gone, after all? He hadn't been lying when he'd told Madeline that Section Four was all he knew and all he wanted. Until the Sunnydale mission, he'd never had a chance to be anything other than a tech and systems analyst, when he wasn't spending his required time with the scientists.

But now he had people under him. He was responsible for lives, not mere packets of data. He was respected and, as the team had begun to have individual run-ins with the supernatural, a little feared. Oz wasn't even sure he could go back - not and be the same were that had left the pack a little over three weeks before.

Madeline's fingers stilled in his hair, and Oz stilled with them. At home an end of affection might signal that the dominant was bored now, or had made their point, or that the subordinate had worn out their welcome. With the scientists, it usually meant they felt that you had suffered your time well and could leave soon. Madeline was neither a scientist nor a were...mostly. So he waited.

When Madeline's fingers began to move again, he relaxed a little.

"You're awake?" she phrased it as a question, but Oz sensed the statement in it.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Are you better now? You should probably get ready for school."

Oz's internal clock agreed. Even if it hadn't, he still would have scrambled to get himself together. A gently worded command was no less important than a harshly worded one. The handlers liked to use them sometimes as tests.

Standing, Oz saw that Madeline was leaning back against the cave's natural back wall in such a way that she couldn't be seen by someone walking in. The tranquilizer gun was by her side, far from where he'd curled around her in his sleep but close enough to grab quickly.

"There are fresh clothes, there," she said, pointing to the other end of the cave.

"You're very brave," he said in response, startling himself.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Why do you say that?"

Oz gestured to the gate and then to where she was still seated. "You're pretty far from the door. I could have ripped you apart. Or made you a were, like me."

"Who's to say I didn't wait until you changed back before I entered your cage? And please, feel free to get dressed while we talk. It's far more efficient," she said on a smile.

He shrugged, but felt a blush rising from his shoulders to his face as he turned from her and retrieved his clothes. That smile had been pleased. Something he had done had made her happy, and that made him happy even if he didn't know what it was yet.

"It, uh..." He glanced over his shoulder, suddenly remembering that regular humans outside of Four had very definite feelings about nudity amongst strangers. Madeline appeared undisturbed. "It feels like you were there with me for a long time."

He was pulling up his jeans when she chuckled. "Yes. At one point I thought my arm would cramp from stroking your fur, but you changed back not long after. Your human hair at this length is much easier to play with. And your eyebrows."

Oz's hands drifted to his eyebrows.

Another smile flit across Madeline's face, amused as well as pleased. "You seemed to like that."

"Did I?" Had he? It was such a personal gesture.

She chuckled again. Oz took that as his cue that their conversation was effectively over and continued dressing. He was pushing his arms into a red plaid flannel shirt when Madeline said, "I want to keep you, Oz."

"I should be less hostile to you tonight, ma'am, now that you've been with me through the change once. And the third-"

"No. Oz. I want to keep you. In Section One. I don't want return you to your handlers. Your pack."

Oz stilled again. As much as he wanted to howl with excitement (she'd had the same idea on her own!) he was surprised to find that he also wanted to whine with pain. Fulfilling though his rank was in this loose, mostly-human pack, he cared deeply for the weres he'd been separated from at Four. They were his friends, family, playmates, future, past, imagination and truth. Leaving them was more than wishful thinking. It was a dream - a dream that made his heart thump, but a dream nonetheless.

"Are you serious?"

One corner of Madeline's lips rose, but Oz would have been hard-pressed to call it a smile. "What do you think?"

"I-"

"That was a rhetorical question and does not require a verbal response."

Oz nodded, cowed for the first time since waking with his head in his al- in Madeline's lap.

"Come," she ordered.

Fully shrugging on the flannel shirt as he went, Oz crossed the cave to her side. In her right hand was the tranq gun. Her left hand was extended to him. He noted her changed position on the floor, her braced feet, and knew what she wanted.

His hand gently gripping hers, Oz easily pulled Madeline, and the gun, off the floor.

"Thank you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Madeline smiled and stroked Oz hair with the backs of her fingers. Then she passed a single finger over the closer eyebrow, then the other. His eyes fell closed on their own and he sighed. "I do like that."

"I said you did. You didn't believe me?"

Oz tensed. "I didn't know what to believe," he said truthfully, hoping she would believe him.

She hummed but didn't otherwise respond. She did, however, inspect him: his clothes, his hair ("Have you tried purple yet?"), his skin, his face, his nails ("These are far too neat for a contemporary American teenager. Someone observant is going to wonder about them, and, in turn, about you."); she even went so far as to bend his arms at the elbow, manipulate his fingers and turn his head. By the end of it, Oz was ready to go back to sleep.

Lips curved in the pleased smile, Madeline stepped back to observe him. "I want you, Oz. Not as a toy or a pet or a curiosity. I want you for yourself. Your supernatural nature gives us an opening to a world Section One world otherwise not be able to approach. More than that, you have proven yourself calm in new and uncomfortable situations, as well as under pressure. You're smart and thoughtful. Your team respect your authority, including those who had been reluctant to do so when you were first introduced.

"And you are being wasted in Section Four. I realize that it was Four that forced you to develop the qualities I admire in you. But now that you have them, when will you get the chance to use them? Four sent you to me because you were one among many and could be spared. You could be lost and not be missed."

Oz flinched, but Madeline kept going: "There is no one quite like you in Section One. Four also doesn't believe in the Slayer. One does. What do you think will happen to her, however, if Four gets its hands on her."

There was a pause wide enough for Oz to say, "She'll never see daylight again."

"Hmm." Madeline held out a hand to him. When he took it, she gripped it tightly and led him to where he'd left his shoes. Oz adjusted his grip so that he braced her as she stepped into them. "Thank you."

"Will you come back tonight?" he asked. "Or will Dale be here?"

"I'll be watching you for the next two nights." Madeline released his hand and looked down at him. "I may not be able to keep you, but I do protect what's mine. Think about what I've said.

"Until tonight."

Oz watched her stride out the cage, his heart pounding in his ears.

Fin[ite]


	7. Til it Overflows

**Title:** 'Til it Overflows  
 **Character(s):** Madeline Sands, Oz Osbourne  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Summary:** Deep into what was supposed to be a short-term mission for Section One, Section Four asset, Oz, reflects on his current situation.  
 **Length:** ~1,910 words  
 **Notes:** This was originally written for the 2018 August FAD, during the height of my annual August craziness. I've reviewed and edited this story for clarity and such but…dude, did this one take a left turn at Albuquerque and never found its way back. This is one of the few times I regret not having a regular beta. Even my entry on LJ looks totally bonkers to my September self. All that to say, if you see any errors – continuity, plot circuity, spelling, grammar, common sense – please feel free to point them out in the comments.

* * *

Oz already knew the mission was going to keep going. Section Four had given him a two week leash, trying to avoid the problem of full moons and werewolves without a pack to temper them. He and the other Section One operatives had hit the two week wall ten days ago. Three days ago Madeline herself had traveled from Section One to keep watch over Oz. And to make him an offer to defect from Section Four to join Section One.

Oz suspected she was also using it as an opportunity to reassert her dominance over him. He'd heard that werewolf packs were usually very patriarchal, but Section Four's pack structure was based half on meritocracy and half on reward incentive. The biggest, baddest wolves who could also best dance to the scientists' and handlers' tune got to be in charge. Gender was less important – unless the scientists decided it was.

Otherwise, Madeline had done her research well. The mix of attention to his well-being and disregard for his personal boundaries appealed to his wolf's need for a good leader. The deference to his superior knowledge of the supernatural and acknowledgment of his personal qualities appealed to his human need to be seen and valued for himself. And, unlike his Four pack-mates, after Madeline had made her appeal on the first night of his change under the full moon, she had refrained from bringing it up again though she had stayed with him over the next two nights.

The last day of the full moon had been the hardest. Not because of the impending physical change, but because he knew it would be the last he spent curled up around Madeline as she watched over him. Oz knew that members of his team who had gotten solitary cover details considered themselves lucky. Before this mission, Oz had never spent more than a day or two away from the thirty-some-odd members of his pack, and he had never been alone and untouched. Total isolation from the pack — which, to a certain extent, included the scientists and handlers over them — was reserved as punishment for only the most egregious behavior. Oz had never stepped so far out of line before.

The days had been easy enough during those first two weeks before the full moon. He had school every day. Human teenagers were more tactile than their adult counterparts, but not nearly as much as werewolves.

Oz had been further fortunate that the mission specs had called for him to fall in with a alt-rock/grunge band, Dingoes Ate My Baby, early on. The lead singer, Devon MacLeish, was both a charismatic and touchy-feely kind of guy. He was known for putting his long lanky arms around the necks of people he had only passing familiarity with, and most seemed to accept it. He also didn't seem to notice the way Oz physically gravitated to him. So long as Oz didn't get between him and any "babes" that might be nearby, Devon didn't seem to care who he was lying on, leaning against, draped across or falling all over. He was a tactile people person. Oz was sure that otherwise unimportant fact had saved his sanity.

Nights had been harder. He'd been able to "crash" at Devon's place once or twice a week. The young man either hadn't noticed or cared when Oz turned out to be a cuddler. Or, at the very least, he had never mentioned it.

Then the mission had gone into a third week. He should have gone back to Section Four then, to prepare for the coming full moon along with his pack-mates, but there had been no talk of pulling Oz from the mission. By the end of it he had been ready to send himself back. Then Madeline had found a way to be in near-constant communication: a comm unit disguised as a cheap pair of headphones and discman.

It had helped. It had helped so much, but the full moon had still been bearing down on all of them, whether or not his teammates understood what that meant. While he knew their mission was to find and recruit the Vampire Slayer, whoever she was, Oz didn't want their first encounter to be under the influence of the change. The Slayer had a reputation in the supernatural world for slaying first and asking questions never.

Between the isolation and his impending change, coping had become nigh on impossible. Until Madeline herself had shown up to help him through the change.

Oz had been afraid of ripping the humans around him to pieces when he completely succumbed to his animal half, and coming to the unwanted attention of the Vampire Slayer. But the presence of the alpha had made that moot. For three nights he had slept curled on and around her on the floor of a reinforced cave in the hills overlooking Sunnydale. No fool, Madeline had always kept a tranquilizer gun handy but there hadn't been a need for it. The commanding presence of an alpha had kept Oz's animal side as quiescent (or vicious, if she had chosen) as she had wanted.

Then it was over and Madeline was gone. But she hadn't left him alone.

While he was in the field, the operatives from Section One (all human) had become his temporary pack. In his head they occupied ranks of equal or lower status to his own, particularly when it came to things of the supernatural. (Devon and the other members of the Dingoes were something like older adolescents to Oz – effectively occupying the same status in his head that Oz himself held in the Section Four pack.) And Madeline, was their (his) alpha.

The day after Madeline left, Chisholm, in his guise of a nerdy groupie Steven, had come up to Oz and spontaneously hugged him. "Thank you so much, dude. You, _listen_ , when I talk and stuff, and you signed all my merch, and you _have_ so much merch and—"

Devon had come over, then, intent on rescuing Oz from what appeared to be a stranglehold of fannish affection. Steven/Chisholm allowed himself to be pried off Oz easily, not once betraying the strength hidden by his ill-fitting clothes. Instead he made as if to hug Devon, as he loudly proclaimed, "And the _music!_ Man it's like—"

"Dude! Dude! That's, like, my shirt!" Devon had protested, while Oz basked in the remembered warmth of Chisholm's strength. He had smelled of amusement and curiosity and, of course, himself. Oz could tell that even trying to "hug" Devon had amused the young operative.

"Yo!" Devon had punched Oz's arm, none too gently. "Y'see why I told you t'stop humoring the guy? Ugh! Now I'm covered in nerd."

Oz had laughed.

Later that day, when Dale/JC-the-bully crowded Oz into a corner where he was, theoretically, trying to intimidate the smaller man, Oz could scent his teammate's confused determination to follow what must have seemed like strange orders from Madeline. Oz still took a measure of comfort out of the forced proximity, though Chisholm/Steve's good-humor made it…better.

The next morning Park/Jimmy made a bet with his "sister", Weller/Angela, to go over and kiss Oz in full view of the homeroom hallway crowd. The kiss hadn't been as important to Oz as the full-body press between them. It had been difficult to maintain the mild, gentlemanly cover, that required he gently peel his teammate away from him. He would have preferred to break the kiss so he could wrap himself completely around her and have the simple pleasure of her presence and scent.

The intrusion had the added bonus, however, of giving both "siblings" reason to accost him in the halls over the next few days: Park/Jimmy-the-class-clown to grab at Oz, and loop his arms around him, or punch him, or any other playfully annoying ways one human could touch another. Weller/Angela-the-deeply-embarrassed-sister often approached Oz, at first to apologize for giving into her "brother", then later to apologize for him. She didn't usually get much past placing a hand on his arm or grabbing and holding his hands, but often Weller's touches were firm and long lasting. Of all of his human pack, she seemed to best understand Oz's nature and his need. The relationship between their cover personas had always been the most friendly.

Nights were still hard when he couldn't manage to crash with someone else, usually Devon. Madeline was always there over his hidden comm. And when she couldn't be, he suddenly found himself with an invitation to dinner at Jimmy and Angela's, or Steven pleading to let him hang out with Oz just this one night—even one memorable night when JC pulled him into a reasonable gentle headlock and made him tag along with him to a night game. Watching football in person had been no more comprehensible than it had been when he was still at Four, but the press of warm bodies and the wash of their scents had been a worthwhile tradeoff.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't warm skin against the ever-present cold, or mixed scents and echoed heartbeats that felt like his own, or wordless communication. It kept him going, though. And the longer he went without the ever-present press of his Section Four pack, the less it felt like a gaping pit in his gut, the more he could focus on the mission at hand.

Figure out who the Slayer was. Bring her in to meet his human pack's alpha. Go back home.

Oz was sitting alone in his van one night almost two weeks after the team dynamics had changed. He was reviewing his and the team's reports with Madeline when she suddenly said, "You seem less distressed."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The team has been helping you." She'd made it a statement, but he responded as if it had been a questions: "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"I told you before, Oz, I protect what's mine."

Warmth spread through his chest. She had said that to him while she had been in Sunnydale for the full moon. The implication that Oz was already hers should have made his wolf protest, but it knew a good alpha. Protection and care where signs of an alpha worth following. The leaders of the Section Four pack did what they could for their members, but every single wolf there belonged first to the human scientists and handlers before they belonged to any wolf, including themselves.

Oz breathed in sharply through his nose.

"Tell me what has caught your attention," Madeline said in her cool way.

And because she had already long ago established how she expected Oz to respond when asked a direct question, he answered with little hesitation: "I just realized that I want to belong to you." That he already did remained unspoken.

Oz could hear her pleased smile over the comm when she said, "I'm so glad you've decided to take me up on my offer to defect from Section Four. You do realize that that's what it means to belong to me."

"Yes, ma'am," Oz said quickly and quietly, as if the ties had already been severed.

"Good. I think you'll do very well in Section One. Just as soon as we wrap up this mission. Let's finish the debrief. I have a scenario for getting you in with the Slayer's group so that you can out her without being outed yourself."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Madeline, Oz. Please call me Madeline."

Fin[ite]

* * *

 **Note2:** If I can keep this series moving, I believe this will be the last story before Oz's official appearance in S2. I know some readers have expressed dismay of this submissive, manipulated/manipulative Oz, but I promise I know why he starts here and where he goes. Can I promise that we'll get to see him get there? No. But we can try, neh?

 **Note3:** Soooooo many thank yous to our twistedshorts mods for not having my head when I posted this story to twistedshorts apparently without tags (formatted them wrong) and a messy header. When did I notice? A week and half after the FAD was over it. Neither ragged me about it, and dutifully counted the story anyway, and even commented. So kind! And so very much appreciated. I wasn't kidding when I said August is my crazy month. Looking back at my post makes me wonder at my own sanity and sleep levels, lol.


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